


I Carry Your Heart With Me

by FrauKatzen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Dependency, Explicit Sexual Content, Incest, M/M, Neediness, No Bashing, Separation Anxiety, Slow Burn, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5191982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrauKatzen/pseuds/FrauKatzen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(i carry it in my heart)</p><p>The memory of Albus first year, begging not to go to Hogwarts, came to mind. So little and scared, his tiny hands clinging to Harry as though he could save him. Perhaps this was inevitable. COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the warnings. Not only is this incest, but it's incest with a BIG age difference.
> 
> But if you clicked on this because of its pairing, I assume you know what you're about to get yourself into. Enjoy.

Six years had passed since Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter signed the divorce papers. In that time, their relationship had not improved. If anything, they were colder towards one another than they were when they first cut the knot. This may have had to do with the fact that only two of her children had chosen to stay with her after the divorce, the other insisting that he wanted to reside mostly permanently with his father.

 

Harry and Ginny, after an almost peaceful splitting of assets that was in direct conflict with their disruptive home life, had decided to allow their children to choose which parent with whom to live. Both Harry and Ginny had day jobs and took care of their children in equal measure. They wanted their children to have stable home lives, and that would be unattainable if they spent their time splittingly at both homes. James, who had always stoked favor to his mother’s nurturing—if a bit bold—nature, chose to stay with Ginny. Ginny took this to mean that Lily and Albus would stay with her as well, for they were too young to decide, and she didn’t want the siblings separated.

 

Harry was resigned to this as well—rather disappointed, yes, but he would do anything for his children and their happiness. He reluctantly agreed to the terms of the divorce settlement. What the pair hadn’t counted on, however, was Albus’ protest and depression. The boy, merely five years old, had begged to stay with his father. Harry (who was secretly a bit partial to his second son, although he’d never admit it) had talked to him, explaining he had to stay with his mum and siblings.

 

After that unpleasant discussion, in which Albus cried and pleaded with his regretful father, the boy had been returned to his mother’s house with a broken spirit. The environment, which had taken him away from his beloved father, who had spoiled him with treats and healed all of his wounds with flashy magic, pushed Albus into a depression. He was nearly always cranky, an unusual trait for the normally easy-going child, and lost weight from his already skinny stature, refusing to eat.

 

Even his and his siblings’ biweekly weekends at their father’s home couldn’t take him out of his funk. It was obvious to his mother, though, that Albus cheered up exponentially as soon she Flooed them over to Harry’s place for his visits.

 

“Da!” Albus would yell, flinging himself onto Harry as soon as he walked in the room, nearly always before his siblings.

 

Harry would pick up his son, tapping him on the nose, smiling and asking him what he had done that week. Albus would recount happily, snuggling up under his father’s chin and smiling. James and Lily would receive similar hugs, but their enthusiasm was not as high as their brother’s, nor were their spirits normally as low as his before the visits. Ginny would then leave, allowing the four to bond.

 

Harry would return the three children home two days later, James and Lily hugging their father before bounding off to their rooms to put their things away. Albus, however, would stay with his father longer, attempting to get him to look at a picture he drew or a book he wanted to read.

 

Harry always sent his son a soft look, allowing Albus to grab his hand with his smaller one and lead him off to the kitchen or his bedroom to bring him to what he wanted Harry to see. Ginny, on such an occasion, carrying the laundry basket through the upstairs hallway, had walked by Albus’ cracked door to see him tucked up against his father as Albus read him a story on the bed, sitting side by side, Harry’s arm around Albus’ shoulders. She stopped to observe for a brief minute. Albus slowly sounded out the words. Every time he didn’t know one, he would look up at Harry coyly, and Harry would help him sound it out. She left the doorway quietly, neither knowing she had ever arrived.

 

The look on Albus’ face as he looked up at Harry, an adoration she had never seen from her youngest son, made her decide. As heartbreaking as it was for her, she approached Harry a day later, knowing what she had to do. Harry and she may not have been on the best of terms, their split a result of work conflicts and constant fighting, but she had decided it was the right choice to ask him to take Albus. The notion was further confirmed as soon as she saw the look of suppressed hope on her son’s face after bringing up “Living at Da’s house.” She told Harry about Albus’ attitude around home, and he agreed that perhaps Albus should try and live with him for a while.

 

Albus moved in with Harry a week later, much to their happiness and Ginny’s sadness. Now it was Albus coming to visit his siblings and mother every other week at her house, and Lily and James visiting the opposite weekend at Harry and Albus’. It killed Ginny to see Albus change back to a rambunctious little boy under Harry’s care. She felt like she wasn’t enough for him. Fortunately, Harry seemed to be. Albus gained back the weight he had lost, no longer branches and knobs, and his new and improved attitude made him seem like a different child.

 

The short periods she saw Harry and Albus interact, they were very caring and playful. Albus was very inquisitive, and Harry would patiently answer all of his questions. Harry was born to be a father, and she was glad that even though he wasn’t her husband any longer, he could still be her child’s dad.

 

Now they were sending their two sons off to Hogwarts, and she stood next to her ex-husband and youngest son, James having already run off to find his friends on the train.

 

She reached for Albus from where he clung to Harry’s hand, and they released each other in order to let Ginny wrap her arms around him.

 

“Now, you be good, you hear? Study, and send me loads of owls home,” she said, sniffling slightly. Albus still seemed so small, and he had never been as extroverted as James. She knew it was silly to worry so much, feeling as though she was channeling her mother—the Weasley matriarch was always so protective over her only daughter, and it had driven Ginny crazy. The irony was not lost on her that the cycle was repeating, only now the focus was narrowed down on her not-oft-seen son.

 

Ginny already felt as though she had partially lost him six years ago to Harry; rationally, she knew this was just another step in letting him go and grow up. It still hurt.

 

“I will, mum.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly then let go after a couple of seconds. She kissed him on the head as she released him, letting him turn back to Harry.

 

Immediately, Harry reached down and messed up their son’s already untidy hair. Albus’ fingers curled into a fist on Harry’s jumper. Something in Ginny’s chest clenched at the sight of Albus looking up at his father in reassurance. Harry smiled down at him.

 

“You listen to your mum, yeah?”

 

Albus nodded, face beginning to do funny things. He then flung himself toward Harry, face burying in his stomach. Ginny heard the tell-tale muffled sniffles. Lily, who had been off talking to her cousins returned at that moment. “Why is Albus crying?” she asked. “Aren’t only big kids allowed to go to Hogwarts?”

 

“Hey,” Harry said softly, a tone Ginny had often heard directed toward Albus. Harry ran his hands through Albus’ hair again, this time with the intention to smooth down rather than mess up.

 

“Lily, Albus is a big kid,” Ginny said. “Sometimes it can be emotional moving from one thing that you know to another thing that you don’t know. And that’s what going off to school is like.”

 

“Da,” Albus moaned, and Ginny was sure she hadn’t heard her youngest son sound so distraught in years. “Da, I don’t want to go anymore. Why can’t I just stay with you? You can teach me magic.”

 

Ginny watched as Harry tenderly pulled Albus away to crouch down, running one hand softly down Albus’ cheek, wiping the tears away, the other rubbing a shoulder. Harry always seemed to be able to lend Albus comfort where Ginny couldn’t. That used to hurt, years ago, but now it just was how it was. Ginny had let herself grow numb to the fact that Albus obviously adored his father. She hadn’t let the jealousy take over. After all, she had James and Lily living with her, and it wasn’t as though Albus didn’t love her. “Hogwarts will be amazing, Albus. It might be scary at first, but you will be so busy making friends and learning magic that you won’t even notice how much time has passed. I’ll see you at Christmas. Remember that you have James and your cousins to go to, as well, if things ever get too lonely or scary.”

 

Albus let in a shaky breath. “I don’t want them,” he said. “I want _you_.” More tears fell, and Harry wrapped his arms back around their son. Ginny glanced away from the emotional scene at the clock, checking the time. 10:55.The train knowingly blew its whistle.

 

“The train is about to leave, honey,” Ginny said, turning to run her hand down Albus’ back. “You need to hop on.”

 

“You will be fine, Albus. We have the mirrors if you ever need to talk,” said Harry. “If you want to talk tonight, I’ll keep mine out.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“I promise, Al.” Harry turned his head to kiss Albus’ cheek, and Albus returned the sentiment a moment later, finally releasing his father. “I love you. I know you’ll have a great time.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

The train blew its whistle again, and Albus Potter tightly hugged Harry one last time, releasing him after several nervous seconds. Harry and Ginny watched as their son cast Harry a fretful glance, putting his foot on the train’s entering step. Tapping under his own chin encouragingly, Harry sent him a small smile, his youngest son finally taking the last few strides onto the train. Ginny grabbed Lily and desperately tried not to notice the lack of final acknowledgement directed toward her.

 

\---

 

As Albus disappeared, Harry scanned the station and realized that his ex-wife was still standing a few yards away, sniffling with the sendoff and clutching Lily’s head against her stomach. Lily was frowning and trying to escape subtly to no avail.

 

“ _Mum_ ,” Lily moaned. “Lemme go.”

 

Ginny glanced down, surprised. “Oh. Sorry, dear.” She let go of Lily, and the girl began smoothing down her hair with as much indignation as a ten year old could muster.

 

Harry, Ginny, and Lily waited until the train began moving and was out of sight.

 

If Harry felt as though a piece of him had left with it, there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

 

\---

 

The week had not been good. It began with a cold. Albus had woken up one morning with a sore throat and a nose so stuffed up he couldn’t breathe through it. He got up despite his sickness to go to Potions, where stupid Dustin Finnegan spilt Bosnian Itching Powder all over his left side. Albus had to go to the Hospital Wing for a whole four hours while Madam Pomfrey cured his hives (and gave him a new set of robes—and pants, to his horror).

 

Albus had forgotten to ask for a Pepper-Up Potion whilst there, so he decided to just let his cold follow its natural course, which, it turned out, had been a poor choice. Two days later, he woke up shivering cold. His Hufflepuff roommates, concerned for him, made him stay in bed but absent-minded as they were forgot to get the nurse or tell his professors what had happened. This had ended with him missing a Transfiguration exam worth a quarter of his grade and sleeping through Charms as well as the Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin match that night that he had looked forward to all semester.

 

He managed, the next day after his fever had broken, to explain to his professors what had happened, and they let him off with a warning and a remake for the exam he missed.

 

Worst of all, Albus lost his mirror. He always kept it with him, but sometime between waking up with a sore throat and apologizing to his professors, his mirror had disappeared. He normally had it under his pillow, but when he checked it was gone. He had looked everywhere, sure that he hadn’t been careless with it.

 

He asked his cousins and James if they had seen it, but his cousins said they hadn’t and James had sneered at him.

 

“That mirror you talk to da with all the time? You still use that? What are you, five?”

 

Albus, furious and embarrassed at that, had shoved James as hard as he could and stormed off, red in the face. James just _didn’t get it_. He never got on with their da as well as Albus did. He always lived with their mum, always made friends easily, always was a Gryffindor.

 

But Albus was a quiet Hufflepuff, and while he had made a few friends, they didn’t come with intense or close relationships he could rely on. Harry was who he went to with all his problems. He was the one who could make him feel safe and seemed to always know just what to say to make him feel better. He loved his da more than anyone in the world, and James always had to be such a prat to Albus about it.

 

It didn’t help that with each passing day since he had left on the train, Albus became increasingly homesick. He missed his London townhouse and the nearby park. He missed the loudness of the city and the hum of distant, constant traffic even at night. The way he couldn’t see the stars except when his da took him up on the roof and created a light barrier so they could study the constellations.

 

In Scotland, at Hogwarts, he could always see the stars. It didn’t seem fair.

 

Most of all, he missed his da and his comforting presence. The morning hugs and the goodnight kisses. Bowls of cereal with no socks as they sat side by side watching cartoons on the weekend and listening to Harry’s record player at night, singing along loudly and off-key. How he felt never alone and always understood.

 

And now his mirror—his one lifeline to home—was gone. And he didn’t know where it was. He quelled down the panic as much as he could and decided to write a letter home to Harry, letting him know. His da would fix it. Would know something was wrong when Albus didn’t call him that night—Thursday, one of their nights to chat. He would just have to live without the mirror for a while. He tried his hardest not to let the very thought make him miserable and sought out to play a game of exploding snap with his fellow Hufflepuffs. Not the best week.

 

\---

 

It took another three weeks to find out what happened to his mirror. Albus was cleaning his bed area before winter break. Tomorrow he would take the train back to London—to home.

 

Albus was moving his bed forward when he heard something heavy and metal crash to the floor behind it. Uneasily, Albus leaned over to see what had fallen and, sure enough, it was his mirror. In pieces. His heart sank. If he had any hope before, then it had all but evaporated at the sight of his beloved mirror, shattered all over the floor. Carefully, Albus found his Hufflepuff scarf and wrapped the glass fragments up, gently returning it to his trunk.

 

If he hadn’t been returning home tomorrow, Albus didn’t know what he would have done. Harry had not been very helpful in their correspondences. Although Albus wrote to him every day, and his da kept up fairly well, Harry had not been able to find a replacement mirror for him. And letter correspondence just wasn’t the same as face to face interaction.

 

Sighing, Albus closed his trunk.

 

\---

 

Albus was in a foul mood, and Harry didn’t know what to do about it. Ever since they had gotten home from the train station and Albus had met Belinda, he had been rather caustic.

 

It had been fine at the station, when Albus had gotten off the train and thrown himself at Harry, clutching onto him like a baby koala.

 

“How was your semester?” asked Harry, hugging his son back. He looked over his head for James, seeing him a little ways away greeting Ginny.

 

“ _Long_ ,” said Albus, grinning up at Harry as widely as Harry had ever seen on his face. “I’m so glad to be back.”

 

After that, Harry approached his other son, asking James how his year was going. As always, James was bubbly and rambled about his friends, Quidditch, and subjects.

 

There was definitely more to his explanation than Albus’, whose worried him a bit.

 

Harry had then proceeded to bring him home where his new girlfriend was waiting. He met her through work, and she was gorgeous and smart and funny. Harry hadn’t wanted to distract Albus from school, but now he wishes he had told him about her earlier, if only so Albus had time to process. Harry hadn’t dated anyone since Ginny, and of course Albus wasn’t going to be over the moon at first about Harry dating someone other than his mother.

 

“This,” Harry said, when they had entered their townhouse, “is Belinda.” Belinda stood up from the kitchen table where she was reading as Albus looked questioningly up at Harry.

 

“Hello, Albus,” she said kindly, extending her hand. Albus hesitantly shook it, looking from Harry then back to Belinda. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

 

Albus’ clearly weak handshake ended when he abruptly pulled his hand back. He looked back up at Harry, and Harry began to realize how perhaps this was not the best way to introduce her to his eleven year old son.

 

“Belinda is my girlfriend,” Harry said.

 

“ _Girlfriend?_ ” Albus squeaked. Belinda’s smile faltered, but she already knew Harry hadn’t told Albus about her.

 

It remained tense until Albus furiously grabbed his trunk and stormed up to his room as quickly as his little body could manage to drag the heavy object.

 

Harry sighed, looking at the crestfallen Belinda. “I’m sorry about that—I wasn’t sure how he would react. He just needs time to cool down.”

 

\---

 

But cool down he didn’t. Belinda went home for the night, as they both agreed that would be for the best. After a couple hours of hearing nothing from his son’s room, Harry knocked on the door.

 

“Albus?” Harry called. There was no response. “What would you like for dinner?”

 

“Not hungry,” said Albus pitifully.

 

Harry sighed, and he turned the door handle to let himself in, surprised to find it unlocked. Albus’ trunk was still packed and his back was turned toward the door defiantly.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Harry asked, sitting down on the bed and reaching out a hand to stroke Albus’ back. He tried not to be hurt when Albus flinched away.

 

He grunted moodily, curling further in on himself.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her sooner. It didn’t seem right to tell you through a letter. She’s not a bad person, though, Al. You should give her a chance.” He kept his hands in his lap, not used to Albus acting so petty. Before Hogwarts, he was always well-behaved and up-beat. Harry had worried about him since he left, even more so when in their mirror conversations Albus’ usually content demeanor had lacked its usual luminosity. In fact, Albus frequently appeared depressed and more than once had asked if he could come home, if only for a visit.

 

Harry had evaded each request, sure that Albus needed to adapt to his school and any visits home would hinder rather than help him in the long run. He stood by his earlier decision to leave Albus at school the entire semester, but that didn’t prevent Harry from worrying incessantly about his son. He had never been away from home for longer than a couple days.

 

Albus mumbled something, and Harry didn’t quite catch it. “What was that, Al?”

 

“You didn’t send me a new mirror.” Albus chose that moment to roll over and glare at Harry with red-rimmed eyes. Harry felt a sigh building up in his chest but forced himself to keep it down. Instead, Harry reached out and took Albus’ little hand in his own.

 

Harry looked down at their touching palms. “I told you I couldn’t find another one. The ones we used were inherited.”

 

Albus’ lower lip quivered. “But—”

 

He cut himself off, letting a few tears fall. Harry’s heart was in his throat. He hated it when Albus cried. It made him ache. “What, Al?”

 

“Don’t you want to talk to me anymore? You didn’t let me stay home with you when I asked you not to send me to school and you don’t even let me visit you and you don’t visit me at school and I hate it. I _hate_ Hogwarts. James is mean to me and I miss you all the time and I feel lonely and now the mirror is gone and I can’t even see you when I want and you clearly don’t love me anymore because of—of—”

 

“Hey,” said Harry, alarmed by the words coming out of his son’s mouth. “Hey. Of _course_ I love you.” Harry gathered Albus up in his arms, forcing him into a sitting position. “What brought this on? Why are you saying all of this? You were fine at the train station.”

 

Albus’ tears soaked the neck of Harry’s shirt. “I _hate_ her.” There was no need to ask who “her” was.

 

“You don’t even know her,” Harry said, trying to keep his tone soothing as his son snuggled tighter into his lap.

 

“I don’t need to,” Albus said. “She took you away from me. I want her _gone_.”

 

“Albus…” Harry was unsure on how to deal with his son’s demands. On one hand, he wanted to make his son feel better, and he hated that he was suffering, but on the other he didn’t want to ruin his budding relationship with Belinda merely because his son threw a temper tantrum.

 

Although Harry was unsure. Albus wasn’t the sort to cry and complain. Or he hadn’t been before that day at King’s Cross Station in September.

 

Unbidden, Albus at five years old flashed across his mind. The last time he had been depressed. He had hoped Albus had grown out of that separation anxiety when it came to Harry but he obviously had not.

 

“No one is going to take me away from you. You are the most important person in the world to me.”

 

“Then why do you need anyone else?”

 

Harry paused, trying to think of how to explain it. “There are different types of love, Albus. You love me like a da, and I love you like a son, and—”

 

“You _love_ her?” Albus asked, tears coloring his voice.

 

“No, Albus, I don’t. But I could one day, perhaps. And that would be a different kind of love than ours. The kind of love that I used to have for your mum.”

 

“I don’t want you to love her like you loved mum. I don’t want you to love anyone like that.”

 

This time, Harry did sigh. “Albus, do you want me to be alone the rest of my life? I’m not dating her to be cruel to you. I’m dating her because it makes me happy.”

 

“Don’t I make you happy enough? And you wouldn’t be alone if you would just let me come back home. I don’t _like_ Hogwarts—”

 

“Albus,” Harry said, rather more forceful than he intended. Albus immediately stopped talking. Harry rarely had to use that voice with Albus. He lowered his tone. “Albus. You _have_ to go to Hogwarts. You have to learn to be with kids your own age. One day, I won’t be enough for you. I’m just your da, Al. We have separate lives, and one day we won’t live together anymore. This separation anxiety you seem to have developed has to stop. James didn’t have any of this anxiety when he went away to school. It’s all in your head, Al. You will _always_ make me happy, but there are other things that can make me happy, too. I’m not replacing you. You will always be my son.”

 

Albus pushed away from Harry, and Harry’s heart was like lead. His words didn’t seem to have the right impact, and he was sure he messed up by mentioning James. He knew his two sons didn’t see eye to eye on most things, what with Albus being sensitive and James being rambunctious. Albus rolled away and returned to his former position on the bed, back facing Harry.

 

“Go away,” he said tearfully. Harry hesitated before standing up. He was almost out the door when he heard three quiet words that he never thought he’d hear come from his son’s mouth.

 

“I hate you.”

 

\---

 

Later that night, just as Harry was just drifting off to sleep, he heard his door squeak and heard a flurry of footsteps. Immediately, he was awake, his survival instincts as sharp as ever. His racing heart slowed down as his son crawled into his bed and snuggled up to his side. Albus had nearly grown out of this within the last year but it had been known to still happen after a day of emotional upheaval.

 

Harry wrapped his arms around his youngest son, and Albus pushed his face into his bare chest, his cold toes tickling his legs.

 

“I’m sorry, da,” Albus whispered. The only sound in the room was their breathing. “I don’t hate you.”

 

“I know you don’t.” Harry closed his eyes, placing a kiss on top of Albus’ hair. “I’m sorry, too. I should have been more sensitive to what you need. If you aren’t ready for me to date anyone yet, I won’t. I’ll tell Belinda it will have to wait until you’re older.”

 

Albus nodded, face hidden. “And Hogwarts?”

 

“I’m not withdrawing you from Hogwarts, Al. I’ll see what I can do about visiting you a few times, though, if that would make you feel better.” Albus grunted, clearly dissatisfied with the compromise but not wanting to press his luck.

 

Harry pressed another kiss against Albus’ head, and he felt a returned kiss on his collarbone. It was like that that they then fell asleep.

 

\---

 

Albus’ second semester wasn’t as horrible as his first, but not by much. He forced himself to go through the motions of friendship with the other boys in his dormitory, finding it really wasn’t so bad and that he genuinely liked many of them.

 

They were often loud and silly, which Albus didn’t mind so much, as it meant he didn’t have to do much talking, and they were often funny. They seemed to like him well enough, too, and sat next to him at meals and invited him to hang out and study. Life wasn’t as bright as it was in London, but he was coping with Hogwarts.

 

It was on one day near the end of the semester, right after their Defense Against the Dark Arts final that Albus was walking with fellow Hufflepuffs Quinton Puddington and Frank Watson through the castle and out toward the front doors to the lake, that a familiar face made an appearance on the lawn.

 

“Da!” exclaimed Albus. “What are you doing here?” Albus sidled up next to his father, glancing back at his friends, who were curiously looking at his famous father from afar. Albus gestured for them to continue onward, and they did with one more backwards glance.

 

Harry ruffled Albus’ hair. “Just thought I’d surprise you and say good job after your latest exam—I know you were stressing about it.”

 

Albus beamed up at his da, his chest filling with warmth. Harry had kept his promise to come visit throughout the semester, although he hadn’t very frequently. It was normally on the weekends when he could take his son out to Hogsmeade with the Headmistress’s permission.

 

Albus led Harry down toward a tree by the lake where they could sit and chat with two butterbeers his da had brought. Albus hadn’t been happier in ages.

 

\---

 

For a week every summer, Albus went to stay with his mum and siblings. This year was no exception, although Albus wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. He always had to share a room with James, and he always missed home. But living at Hogwarts had trained him to be okay away from home.

 

He was four days into his visit, and he was helping his mum make dinner. They always did this together when he visited, as he liked to help in the kitchen, and they didn’t have much in common, so this was always an activity they could happily share.

 

They were cooking with hot oil when it happened, Ginny finally trusting him with that job. He was twelve, after all. Al dropped his spatula on the ground and bent over to pick it up. On his way up, he knocked into the pan and the searing oil reared up to splash the right side of his face, immediately searing the skin. Albus cried out, backing away from the stove, clutching his face.

 

“Oh, dear!” Ginny cried, immediately turning off the food and inspecting the burn.

 

Ginny ended up bringing Albus to St. Mungos, unsure of her own healing skills when it came to burns.

 

When they got into a room, a healer asked if Ginny was his primary guardian.

 

“Da,” Albus insisted. “I need my da.” He was a bit tearful, clutching an icepack to his face. His mother looked over at the healer, ignoring Albus’ words as she often did when he brought up Harry.

 

“I’m his mother,” she said. The healer nodded.

 

“Did you call da?” Albus asked.

 

“Albus,” his mum said, “you don’t need him. I’m here. This nice healer is going to fix you right up.”

 

Albus looked away unhappily as the healer treated his burns. It took half an hour for the salves to sink in before they were allowed to leave.

 

Once they got back to the house, Albus asked his mother where the extra Floo powder had gone.

 

“Why do you need Floo powder?”

 

“I’d like to go home. I need to see da.” He was a little shaken by the hospital, never liking them, and really wanted to go home.

 

\---

 

Ginny sighed, knowing that if there was anything Albus was, it was clingy. To Harry of all people. If she was completely honest, she found it a bit worrying. James and Lily were never as needy even when they were younger. Yes, they had their tantrums, but James had grown out of those, and Lily very rarely had them anymore.

 

But Albus. Well, he had always gravitated toward Harry even when he was very small. Harry could get him to calm down instantly when he was a baby when Ginny couldn’t. Could get him to cheer up instantly when he was sad. It wasn’t healthy, Ginny knew, but she didn’t know what to do about it. She wasn’t sure if it was her place. Harry had been the one who raised the boy.

 

So Ginny sighed, torn but surrendering. “I’ll get it for you, Albie.”

 

A few minutes later, after a brief hug, Albus twirled away in the fireplace.

 

Ginny stood for long moments afterward, staring at the empty fireplace, wondering if she had done the right thing.

 

\---

 

Harry had perhaps not been surprised as he should have by Albus’ sooner-than-expected reappearance in the living room fireplace.

 

After hearing about the burn incident, though, he could see why Albus wanted to return home, although he wasn’t sure if he should encourage this behavior. Harry didn’t want to bring up anything now when Albus was so shaken up, though, so he stored that discussion away for a later period.

 

Albus curled up next to Harry on the couch, and they finished the night by watching a TV movie. Albus fell asleep, head resting on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry ran his hand through the boy’s hair absently, thinking about Albus’ recent behavior. He wasn’t sure it was age appropriate, really.

 

But looking at his own childhood, Harry admitted he may not be the best standard precedent. He gave his children the very best that he could from the time of their birth, not wanting them to wish for anything. This was especially the case with Albus, as he had raised him largely without the help of Ginny.

 

Somehow, in spite of the fact that Harry sensed it wasn’t normal the way Albus constantly looked to him for confirmation and affection, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. His son was precious to him.

 

Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and hoped this was just a phase.

 

\---

 

Second year came and went without consequence. Albus returned home, taller than before, his voice cracking and trying its best to lower.

 

He greeted his father at the train station with a bit more reservation than the year before, fully aware at this point that most thirteen year old boys didn’t wish to fling themselves onto their das at full force and hold on tight.

 

Albus forced himself to be satisfied with a brief hug that James and Lily were similarly greeted with, happy enough that his da wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked out of the station and back home to their townhouse.

 

\---

 

Albus’ first wet dream happened that summer. He woke up distinctly uncomfortable but feeling languid and body-loose. He had been having the nicest dream, where he was in a safe place that was warm, and someone had wrapped him up in their arms, pulling him in close and letting them be together. There were only the vaguest of images and ghosts of what-could-bes. He was confused, a bit, by what had happened, but ultimately didn’t feel bad about it.

 

Only the familiar impression of the feeling of those arms led to a small trickle of dread to curl deep inside Albus’ gut.

 

\---

 

It was around Christmas time of that year that Harry began to notice. Albus hadn’t quite grown out of his neediness, but there had been a slow but steady improvement over his behavior in comparison to first year. Albus still insisted on writing constantly and practically begged his father to come see him on Hogsmeade weekends, but there had not been the edgy child-like quality that had plagued the letters and queries from the first two years of his schooling.

 

Instead, his new worry began to manifest when he began to notice that Albus was acting as his shadow for the first week or so since he had returned for the holidays, always on hand to help. It had gotten to the point that he sometimes had trouble finding time to use the bathroom. On those occasions, when Harry called Albus out on this behavior, Albus would blush and walk away, only to reappear an hour later, nearby and wanting to do whatever Harry was doing or sit near him while they read.

 

And then there was the staring. That had almost been worse. Albus had begun to look at Harry for long periods of time, only to look away when he had been caught, that infuriating blush adorning his pale cheeks.

 

It was unnerving, if Harry were to be completely honest. At times, it almost seemed as though. . .

 

Harry would always dismiss it as an absurd notion. Unbelievable. Ridiculous.

 

Christmas Eve, Albus went to Ginny’s as was tradition. Harry would get him back in the morning. His absence, while not exactly wanted, was somewhat of a relief after the week he had endured. The way Albus had been acting was making him edgy, but he didn’t want to confront him about it and he couldn’t figure out why exactly.

 

Harry ended up heading up to bed early, passing his son’s room. The door was ajar. Later not even knowing why he did it, Harry pushed the door open and turned on the light. He crossed the room to sit on the bed, looking around the unassuming room. Albus’ trunk lay haphazardly next to the bed, clothes spilling over the sides of it. There were fading posters on the wall of Quidditch teams and Wizard bands.

 

Harry absently reached over to pick up Albus’ pillow, pulling it onto his lap. Sitting in his room did not make any clearer what had been up with his youngest son. Harry sighed, turning to put the pillow down and leave when he noticed a piece of paper lying where the pillow had been.

 

Curiously, and with a feeling of trepidation, Harry picked up the paper to find it wasn’t a piece of paper at all. Or, rather, it was but was also a photograph, laminate on the other side.

 

At that moment, his stomach felt as though it had opened up and spilt onto the ground.

 

It was a picture of him. It had been taken a few years ago after an impromptu Quidditch match at the Burrow between all of the Weasley brothers and him. Harry was smiling in it, hair windblown and broom slung over his shoulder. Hermione had taken the photo, having gotten into photography at that time. She ended up handing out prints of what she developed at a later date.

 

Why Albus had this one under his pillow, though. . .

 

Harry bent over to put his head in his hands, not wanting to even think it.

 

His son couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

 

But the more Harry thought about it, the more doubtful he became of his own doubts. Albus had always been clingy. Perhaps this was just a natural progression of those clingy feelings. These would probably go away as well.

 

Even as Harry thought that, he knew that he was wrong. Even he knew that a son’s feelings for his father didn’t follow a natural course to—

 

He moaned a bit into the air, as though his frustration and fear could be released in a single sound.

 

Because, really, what did one _do_ when they realized, almost assuredly, that their thirteen-nearly-fourteen year old son had a crush on them?

 

\---

 

Albus waved to his siblings and gave his mother a hug and kiss goodbye before hopping into the fireplace and Flooing home.

 

It was Christmas, which meant gifts, which meant his da and him alone all day until Christmas dinner when they had to make an appearance over at the Burrow for dinner with everybody and their neighbor.

 

Al couldn’t be happier.

 

The living room was empty when he arrived home, so he bounded up the stairs to put his away bag back in his room.

 

“Da!” Albus called happily. “HAPPY CHRISTMAS.”

 

Al reemerged from his room moments later to see Harry leaning against his own doorway with his arms folded and a strange half-smile on his face. Albus had never seen that expression on his face before, but he forged on. “It’s Christmas,” Albus said, as though Harry hadn’t heard him shouting earlier.

 

Albus walked up to Harry and greeted him as usual, wrapping his arms around his da and expecting the same back. Harry returned the gesture after a moment’s hesitation, causing Albus to frown and hold on all-the-tighter. His da and he had never been lacking in affection, and lately it seemed that Albus craved it more than ever.

 

So when Harry cut the hug short, Albus was taken aback but managed to brush it off with a smile.

 

“Happy Christmas, Al,” he said softly, and Albus’ heart warmed.

 

“Presents?” he asked eagerly.

 

“Lead the way.”

 

\---

 

They settled down on the floor near the tree to exchange gifts, backs against the sofa. Albus watched his father anxiously as he opened the present he just handed him. It had taken him _forever_ to find the perfect gift, and he had to go through an older Slytherin to achieve it. Their uncle worked in a specialty shop in Knockturn Alley where these were being sold.

 

Albus wasn’t entirely sure it was a legal purchase, but he decided it didn’t matter in the end.

 

Harry held up the two mirrors with raised eyebrows. “Where did you find _these_?”

 

Albus smiled, satisfied he could do what his father couldn’t. “Oh, here and there,” he said vaguely. “Do you like them? I know I broke mine a few years ago. I put enforcing spells on these ones, though. Much sturdier.”

 

Albus began to grow nervous, though, when his da didn’t immediately smile and thank him, as he had last year when he received a broom polishing kit. As far as Albus was concerned, that gift was dung in comparison to the mirrors.

 

“Don’t you like them?” asked Albus, not quite disguising his dismay at the lack of reaction. His da had been acting unusual since he got home from his mum’s, and it was beginning to unnerve him. Had he done something to make him mad? Albus had tried his very best to help his father from the moment he came home for the holidays but clearly that wasn’t working in bringing them closer together. He thought these mirrors, though, would be the perfect opportunity to fix the distance he had felt growing throughout the last summer and semester, when Harry only visited him once in Hogsmeade, busy with work the other two times.

 

Finally, after an excruciating half minute, Harry looked over at Albus. He gave him a genuine, if tiny, smile. “Thank you, Al.” Albus grinned back, the relief bursting back into him in a wave.

 

“My turn now?”

 

\---

 

Dinner had already been eaten and served, and the adults were in the living room enjoying some spiked drinks while the school-aged ones were outside on the lawn engaging in a late-night Christmas snowball fight.

 

Except for Al, who had decided to glue himself to Harry’s side from where he sat on the fireplace stoop.

 

“Why don’t you go outside with the other kids? I’m sure they could use some help,” Harry said.

 

But, to Harry’s intense frustration, Albus just shook his head and lay it down upon Harry’s shoulder. “I’m tired. And I don’t like games like that, anyway. You know that.” Albus said this all very quietly. Harry sighed and wrapped an arm around his youngest son’s shoulders. He was no closer to figuring out what to do about what he discovered the night before. He couldn’t just cut his son off—that would be too cruel. Albus, while perhaps too dependent on Harry, was still a child and still needed him.  

 

He glanced around the room to see a few eyes trained on them, one of those being Fleur’s. She smiled at them softly, and Harry smiled back. His eyes shifted a bit, and they met with his ex-wife’s. The look on her face made him go cold. She appeared to be assessing them. He didn’t like the way she was looking at Al in particular.

 

At that moment, Al chose to reach down and entwine their fingers together. “Can we go home, da? I’m tired, and all these people are making my head hurt.”

 

Harry looked down at his son, unable to keep the fond look off his face at Albus’ droopy eyes. Tired Albus always reminded him of when Albus first came to live with him all those years ago. Harry would read him a bedtime story every night, and he would never get the chance to finish it before Al was drifting off to sleep.

 

“Sure, Al.”

 

Harry glanced back up at Ginny. She was looking right back.

 

\---

 

The day before Harry’s fortieth birthday, he was doing laundry. He had just folded up the last of Al’s sleeping shirts and made his way up the stairs to put their clothes away.

 

He briefly knocked on Albus’ door before turning the knob to enter. Immediately, after a frantic cry from his son, Harry turned back out into the hallway and _shut the door_.

 

He left the laundry outside his son’s door and hurried back to his own room to put away his own clothes. He tried desperately to calm his own beating heart and stop his hands from shaking.

 

Because now he knew for sure. There was no mistaking what had flung from Albus’ hand in the panic to cover himself up.

 

That picture.

 

\---

 

Harry’s previous course of action to _just ignore it_ no longer seemed to be a valid option. The thought of confronting his son about it filled him with dread, but he couldn’t let this continue. His son was fourteen, and his feelings were wrong. He couldn’t let them develop any further.

 

Even if that meant sending him to live with Ginny.

 

The moment arose to discuss it sooner than Harry would have liked. The next day, in fact, after everyone had gone home from the birthday celebrations. Al and he had cleaned everything up and were just resting in the living room, unwinding. Harry thought perhaps this was the time to bring it up, before he lost his nerve.

 

He sat up on the couch from where he was slumped and turned to face Albus. “So, Al, there was something I wanted to discuss with you.” Perhaps this wasn’t a good time, after all. But Harry was nothing if not a brave man, so he forged on. “How do you feel about going to stay with your siblings and mum for a while?”

 

That got his son’s attention. Warily, he sat up and looked at Harry. “I already stayed with them this summer. For a week, remember?”

 

“Well, yes, but how do you feel about staying a bit more?”

 

“What do you mean?” Harry couldn’t read his tone. He had a feeling this would end badly.

 

“Until the end of the summer. Until you go back to Hogwarts.”

 

“No,” Albus said. “Why on earth would I want to do that? Did mum put you up to this?”

 

“No, but—”

 

“Then _why_ would you possibly think I’d want to share a room with James for an extra month? You know I’d hate that.” Harry hated the stony tone in his son’s voice with just an edge of whiny. Albus never adopted that tone unless something was distressing him.

 

“It would make your mum so happy.” The argument sounded weak even as Harry said it. Albus and Ginny weren’t close, and while Ginny loved her son, she saw him frequently enough to satisfy her.

 

Albus was silent for a minute. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and sad, escalating gradually the more worked up he became. “Do you not want me here anymore? Did I do something to make you mad? I promise I’ll fix it. Just don’t make me leave. _Please_ , da, anything you want, I’ll do it. Don’t make me leave you. I’m already at Hogwarts for most of the year anyway. We hardly get to see each other and, oh, god, are you angry at—”

 

Harry cut off Albus’ speech by embracing him. “Shh, Al. Nevermind. I’m not angry.”

 

Albus sniffled, and Harry’s heart sank even further if that were possible. “Then why do you want me to leave?”

 

Harry sighed, rubbing his son’s back soothingly. They were quiet for a long time. After an indeterminate amount of time, Harry pulled away, letting Albus go completely, and spoke. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done. “These—feelings—you seem to have developed. They’re not okay, Al. Not where they’re directed.”

 

Harry glanced at Al to see his glassy eyes shift away and his hands begin to fidget in his lap. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“I _know_ , Al. I know.” They sat there for long minutes. Harry wasn’t sure what else to say to him.

 

“Do you hate me?” Harry looked up at Albus to see sudden tears rushing down his cheeks. Harry felt his heart breaking.

 

“No, I don’t hate you, Al.”

 

Al noisily sniffled, more tears rushing down his cheeks. Harry felt terrible about hurting his son, but there was nothing to be done at this point.

 

“Do you love me?”

 

Harry smiled sadly. “Of course, Al, very much. You’re my son.”

 

“Are you in love with me?” The words were so quiet, Harry almost missed them. They jarred him. Harry closed his eyes and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He shook his head. “Because I’m in love with you, da,” Albus said, voice stronger. Harry felt his world collapsing around himself with those words. Those terrible words. “I love you more than anything. Why can’t you see that? Please—please, da—”

 

Harry felt a soft—so very soft—touch to his hair and then neck and then back. A moment later, he felt arms wrap around him from the side, a face bury itself in his shoulder blades. “Please don’t hate me.”

 

\---

 

Albus was on the verge of hyperventilating. Harry knew. Albus must have been so obvious. But he couldn’t help it. His da was everything to him. He was so kind and gentle with Albus and made him feel so special and smelled so nice and was so handsome. He was just so _so_. Everything with his da was more than everyone else.

 

Of course Albus didn’t mean to fall in love with his da, but last summer he had started to notice a soft glow around Harry. Eventually, he realized that the soft glow wasn’t real and just stemmed from the nice feelings he had around him. The way his stomach would pleasantly turn over whenever they touched or how his heart would race whenever Harry laughed at something Albus said or how he seemed to only have eyes for Albus sometimes or how—

 

His dreams. They were only ever vague impressions of the real thing, but Albus knew that he wanted them to become a reality more than anything. He wanted his da to hold him and tell him he loved him, too, and that nothing would ever take him away from him. He wanted to be kissed.

 

But how the reality was now diminishing the fantasy. How ridiculous of Albus to even have fathomed that his feelings were returned. And now he had ruined everything, and Harry wanted to send him away and—

 

Oh, god. Oh, god.

 

He didn’t realize he was sobbing hysterically until warm arms came to hold him and big hands began to wipe away the tears on his face.

 

“Hush, Albie,” came his da’s soft voice. “It’s alright. It will be alright.”

 

Albus tried to speak, his throat choking around the words.

 

“We’ll work through this together. I promise.” Albus began to calm down to normal levels as he breathed heavily into his da’s neck.

 

“I’m sorry,” Albus moaned. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

“I know, sweetheart. I know you are. Everything will be okay.”

 

\---

 

When Albus began to hyperventilate, Harry couldn’t maintain the distant façade anymore. He let his instincts take over when it came to Albus, gathering him in his arms and reassuring him.

 

While Albus’ feelings were inconvenient and difficult, there had to be a way to move past them. Harry knew he was Albus’ rock. He was the person Albus turned to when he was hurt or in trouble or sad. And while this may not be completely normal, Harry wasn’t about to throw his son out if it would hurt him.

 

They would both have to move on. And, more than anything, Harry would have to make sure to set the proper emotional and physical boundaries when it came to their relationship. They had always been very close and had never been shy about touching. Harry vowed to reign in some of his affection—not too much—not so much that it would hurt Al—but enough that perhaps Al wouldn’t feel so dependent on Harry and would let him go the older he got. Al was only fourteen. He had time to grow out of this.

 

\---

 

James had always thought his brother was weird. Ever since he was a little kid, Albus would always get emotional over the stupidest things. He would easily cry and didn’t like playing the same games as James and just wasn’t ever any fun.

 

And when Albus moved out to live with their da, the distance only grew between them. James loved his brother, he guessed, but he didn’t understand him. He was always hanging onto da and following him around like a baby. If James did that with mum, he would be embarrassed. His da didn’t overtly show preferential treatment or anything toward Albus, but Albus definitely showed preferential treatment toward da.

 

Weird, like James said. It only got worse at Hogwarts, and James knew that da began to visit Albus sometime toward the end of first year because Albus asked him to. No one else’s parents did that unless they came to watch them play in a Quidditch match. And James knew that Albus had been being difficult about staying at Hogwarts from overhearing his mum talk to aunt Hermione. Who _didn’t_ want to stay at Hogwarts? It was an enchanted castle and all of James’ friends were there.

 

So when Al didn’t seem to be making a fuss when getting onto the train that year—James’ sixth and Albus’ fourth—James knew something was off. Normally Albus clung to da until the last second as though he could put off ever going back to Hogwarts. Not that James minded the change in his Hufflepuff brother, but there was a stiffness between da and Albus that hadn’t been there the last time he saw them together. His da wouldn’t meet Albus’ eyes, and Albus made sure to keep a couple feet distance between them at all times.

 

After a brief hug from Ginny and Harry to their three children, they sent them off to the train.

 

James turned to Albus once they were out of earshot of their parents and climbing onto the train. “What’s up with you and da?”

 

“What do you mean? Nothing us up.” Albus wouldn’t look at James. Seemed to be deliberately avoiding him.

 

“Well normally you’d be hanging onto him until last minute begging to stay home. It’s like you couldn’t get out of there fast enough today.”

 

Albus shrugged and began to walk away.

 

“Finally growing up, eh?” James teased, following his brother’s path through the train. “Ready to fly away from home? Leave the nest? Had enough of being a daddy’s boy? What, did he finally give you an ultimatum to the fact that he couldn’t stand you acting like a needy baby anymore?”

 

James wasn’t ready for the wand at his throat, nor the tears in his brother’s eyes as he was shoved up against the wall. Passing students glanced at them curiously. “Leave me the _hell_ alone.”

 

“Or what?” James asked this cautiously, not used to his brother fighting back against his taunts. He was sure Albus had never threatened anyone before in his life.

 

A moment later, he was proven right when all the anger seemed to slump out of Albus, and his want weakly lowered. “Nothing,” Albus said, and James was horrified to hear his voice teary. “Nevermind. See you later, James.”

 

It didn’t occur to him until hours later, after his brother had dejectedly walked away from him in the train corridor, that da probably _had_ given Al an ultimatum of some sort. What else could have provoked such a strong reaction from his brother?

 

 

\---

 

When Harry picked his son up from school a year later, things still didn’t feel normal. Despite talking in the mirrors his son had acquired every few weeks, exchanging letters, and seeing each other during Christmas break, there was still careful tension in their every interaction. Albus seemed afraid of upsetting Harry, and Harry was afraid of the same thing with Albus.

 

Last summer, Harry had further talked to Albus about boundaries. What was okay and wasn’t okay. He had told him that if he couldn’t respect those boundaries then there was no way they could continue living together. Albus would have to go live with Ginny if he didn’t work on getting his feelings under control. Harry knew this wasn’t the best solution, but he didn’t know what _was_ and he didn’t want to bring anyone else into the situation. Family and friends had often expressed concern about how needy Albus was with Harry, and Harry hadn’t wanted anyone scrutinizing his son or their relationship more than they already had been.

 

He briefly considered consulting Hermione but quickly eradicated that idea. While he trusted Hermione, he didn’t want to make her keep anything from her husband. He wouldn’t want it to get back to Ron, which would inevitably end up with the entire family knowing. He wasn’t sure what the proper protocol was when one’s son fell in love with them, but he knew he didn’t want to betray Albus by telling anyone.

 

If Albus could move on, then it would be like it never happened.

 

Except it was obvious that Albus still hadn’t moved on. From the train station onward, Harry still picked up on the longing glances—more subtle now than before—that had plagued him last August and during the holidays. Albus tip toed around him and didn’t touch him or make any bold declarations, but he would do things for Harry that were almost _too_ thoughtful. Which, Christ, was a silly thought.

 

Every morning, Albus would wake up early and turn on the coffee pot, pouring Harry a cup before he even sat down.

 

“Two sugars, no cream,” Albus said the first day he did it. “Just how you like it.” Harry couldn’t remember the last time he drank coffee around Albus before that first morning.

 

Albus would pay the prophet Owl, too, and then proceed to put away all the dishes in the dishwasher without being prompted.

 

One day, he came downstairs to Albus doing the laundry, which was a first. Harry blinked, surprised.

 

“Just thought you could use the extra rest is all,” Albus said, as though this was explanation enough.

 

His son’s feelings continued to make themselves known, mostly in the forms of chores, which Harry couldn’t exactly complain about. But he knew where his son’s desire to do chores was coming from, and with that he found issue.

 

It was the fourth week of this sort of thing going on, when one night Albus was organizing the bookshelf (“By author, then by title. So you can find all the books for your research.”), that Harry lashed out.

 

“Albus, could you stop _for one bloody second_.”

 

Albus paused in shelving one of the books to glance over his shoulder at his irate father. “What?”

 

Harry sighed, feeling silly for putting his hands on his hips but unable to help it. “I don’t need you to do any of these things. You’re a _kid_. You shouldn’t want to serve me food or do the laundry or clean the furniture.”

 

“Are you asking me to _stop_ being responsible?” Albus asked slowly.

 

“No. I’m asking you to stop acting like my bloody housewife. You can’t _do this_ , Albie.”

 

Harry felt like an arse when Albus’ eyes lowered and the book in his hand fell limply by his side. “I’m following your rules, aren’t I?” This was the first direct mention of what they had discussed last summer _since_ last summer.

 

Harry let out a breath. “The rules aren’t there so you can find ways to act around them. They’re there for you to _stop_. Stop feeling however you’re feeling. They’re there to make you and me get better. For our relationship to go back to normal.”

 

Albus’ eyes shot up to his then, fiery across the room. Harry couldn’t look away. “Well. Those didn’t work, okay? I tried to be normal, da. And it got me nothing. You don’t laugh with me anymore, and we don’t play anymore. You don’t touch me ever, and I never touch you. I’ve stopped being clingy. I _have_. I’ve changed for you. I did all that you asked. But what do you expect me to do? I still love you. _So_ much. And I can’t just turn off my feelings. I did as you asked, and it’s still not enough. Why can’t you just love me back? I’m trying so hard for you to just love me back. . .”

 

Albus was barely holding it together. God, Harry felt like such a dick. It was always back to _this_. His urge to do the right thing but never knowing what the right thing was. He thought he was helping Albus by making those rules. Perhaps he should have sent him to Ginny’s last summer, anyway. It would have hurt him then but maybe they would be back to normal already. Just father and son.

 

The memory of Albus first year, begging not to go to Hogwarts came to mind. So little and scared, his tiny hands clinging to Harry as though he could save him. Perhaps this was inevitable. Harry was lost on what to do at this point. He didn’t know what to say to his son. Anything his head came up with just didn’t seem right. Too insensitive.

 

Albus cautiously approached Harry. Harry let him get closer than they had been to one another in a year.

 

“It’s killing me, da,” Albus admitted, voice barely a whisper. Albus dropped his forehead onto his father’s chest, arms still dangling by his sides. “I don’t want to be sent to live with mum. I never want to leave your side. Please. Please just be okay with me. We never have to do anything like that if only you’ll stop being mad at me and don’t send me away. I—I couldn’t—bear it—” Harry lifted up a hand to run gentle fingers through Albus’ soft, black hair. Albus’ hands came up to fist in Harry’s shirt on his flanks.

 

“Alright, Albie,” said Harry. There was a surreal quality to his life as Harry said this. It seemed as though this was happening to someone else. His hand that wasn’t his hand reached down to coax Albus’ chin so his face looked up at Harry. Albus looked confused, his red rimmed eyes framed by scrunching eyebrows. Perfectly symmetrical lips. Upturned nose. Harry could see the adorable kid in him. But Albus was fifteen now. Still so young. Not so young.

 

“What do you want?” asked Harry, his voice a whisper. As though sound would break this moment into a thousand pieces. Like it was fragile. Harry supposed it was. His mind had one big film of crust around it. At any moment it could crumble, and logical, rational thought could come rushing in.

 

“Kiss me,” said Albus.

 

And Harry did.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gives into Albus' demands. Things begin to get complicated.

 

 

God, Albus was dying. He was sure of it. Nothing had ever been so good. Bliss. This was bliss. Nothing in his entire fifteen years mattered. It had all been meaningless buildup to this one single moment when everything was just right.

 

Albus had never been kissed before now. It immediately made his knees weak. It made him gasp. That gasp was swallowed by powerful lips attached to the person Albus loved most in the world. Albus clutched at him desperately, afraid he might fall, so overwhelmed with emotion.

 

Harry’s arm steadied him on his back. There was a hand on his cheek, holding his head in place so tenderly Albus felt as if he could roll over and die. It was on his cheek as though Albus would pull away, which was the most ridiculous of possibilities. Albus never wanted to do that.

 

Eventually, after eons of ethereally moist, intimate pressing and sucking, they pulled apart, gasping for air. Joy of the purest sort filled his body. He wrapped his arms tightly around his da. “I love you,” he whispered. There was no way he couldn’t say it at that moment. No way could he keep the good news from his da.

 

He opened his eyes and pulled back to look. His da’s mouth was a deep pink and shiny with Albus’ spit. Albus’ split into a wide grin, bringing his hands up to cup his da’s face, stroking it softly, feeling the stubble. God, Albus loved everything about his da. Every blemish and freckle that he could see from this close up.

 

It was the single most perfect moment of Al’s life until Harry opened his eyes and looked back. He looked wrecked. There was clear anguish in his eyes.

 

“No, no, no,” Albus said, making longer, more soothing strokes along his cheeks to smooth away the horrible emotion covering his father’s face. “Please, no.”

 

Harry grabbed a wrist that was hovering near his neck and turned his head to press a gentle kiss against his palm. Gently, he lowered the hand down to Albus’ side, let go, and took a step back. “I’m so sorry, Albie.”

 

“Da. . .” Albus followed Harry, grabbing onto his hands, refusing to let him go. “Don’t you love me?”

 

“This isn’t about love, Albus,” Harry said, and his voice was hoarse, raw with emotion. “This isn’t right.”

 

“Of course it is. You felt it, too. I know you did. Nothing has ever felt so right. Please. Da. For me. Stay with me. . .”

 

Harry pulled his hands out of Albus’ grasp. “I’m sorry.”

 

And Albus watched helplessly, his world shattering around him, as Harry retreated quietly up the stairs, away from Albus.

 

\---

 

That night, it wasn’t Albus who snuck into Harry’s room but rather the other way around.

 

Albus eventually retreated to his room, too upset and utterly heartbroken to even think about doing anything else. He lay awake, tears sometimes falling, sometimes not, staring at his ceiling. He had managed to strip down to his pants but couldn’t muster up the energy to find his pajamas.

 

How had everything gone so right? How could it have gone so wrong so quickly?

 

All he had ever wanted in the world had been handed to him only to be snatched away at the first taste. Albus was sure he had never been so miserable.

 

After several senseless hours of stream-of-consciousness thinking, Albus’ door opened. Almost lazily, Albus turned his head to watch his da cross the room and sit on the side of his bed. It was dark, but there was a full moon that shone through Albus’ window, illuminating the room with a soft glow.

 

Albus’ heart was thumping so loudly that he was sure Harry could hear it. His da reached down and began stroking his hair back from his face tenderly. Albus wanted to cry at the emotion he felt from the motion. But he had done enough of that already.

 

No words were spoken in the soft darkness of the room as his da lay down next to him, slipping under the covers. Harry had a shirt and sleeping pants on.

 

They lay facing each other, Harry’s hand still pushing at his hair. Albus sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. He didn’t know why his da was here, but he was too tired and scared to ask questions and desperately wanted him to stay.

 

Then he felt a soft, pillowy pressure on his lips, and he gasped lightly. Immediately, he responded, pushing back into the kiss. Harry’s thumb lightly stroked his cheek. They kissed tenderly and wetly for long minutes, the only sound in the room their lips and tongues slickly pushing together and sliding apart. It felt like an apology.

 

Eventually, the kiss began to escalate. Albus was gently rolled onto his back, those large hands running up and down his bare sides slowly, carefully. Albus pulled back to let out a moan, feeling things he’d never felt before. He was hard. His da began to kiss down his neck, tongue roaming behind his ear.

 

“Da—” Albus hung onto his da, wanting him to keep going. Not to stop.

 

\---

 

Harry pulled back at Albus’ declaration. God, his son was gorgeous. Perfect in every way. Harry had long denied it. He knew this was wrong. But for the life of him he couldn’t stop spiraling into this doomed black hole if he wanted to. He felt like a man possessed. He would do anything for the precious boy lying beneath him. He had paced in his room for hours, restless as he had ever been, before his feet, almost unconsciously, led him here. To the sweetest boy Harry had ever known. Harry didn’t know what he was doing anymore. Looking down at his son, he was scared by how strongly his emotions were influenced by this soft, bed-warm Albus.

 

“What is it, darling?” he asked, breath mingling, the endearment unstoppably slipping out.

 

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” Albus begged, pushing up at his shirt. Harry got the message and pulled the shirt over his head, shuddering when he felt Al’s hands there, exploring.

 

Albus pulled him back down into a passionate kiss. Their hands were wild over one another, trying to touch everything all at once. Albus was letting out a constant keening noise now. It somehow broke Harry’s heart and fueled his desire at the same time.

 

When Albus began to tug at Harry’s pajama pants, he didn’t stop him. He helped push them down, freeing his straining erection. Quickly, Harry divested Albus of his as well, and he pulled them flush together, eyes locked, erections sliding warm and hard in tandem, gasping with need. Albus let out a sigh of relief under him.

 

Harry wanted to cry. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful. His son—his sweet boy—whom he loved so carefully—

 

“Need you—” They were both breathing heavily, lips sliding messily together as their arousal grew. “—Da—I need you—please—”

 

Albus emphasized his point by wrapping his legs around his waist.

 

“God, yes. Oh—Albie—” After a few moments of frantic rutting against his son’s leaking erection, Harry calmed himself enough to wandlessly summon some lube.

 

Once he got a hold of it, he squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers. He looked down into Albus’ adoring eyes, leaning over him.

 

Harry began to prepare his son for penetration. Albus was panting hard by the time Harry managed to get two fingers all the way inside. His fingers were surrounded by the sweetest heat and tightness Harry had ever felt in his life, but all he wanted to do was take care of Albus and make sure he felt good and safe. Harry was undoubtedly going insane, he thought, if this is what he now considered “good and safe”.

 

“Shh, baby, shh,” soothed Harry, his other hand stroking Albus into full hardness once again. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Da,” Albus moaned. “It hurts.”

 

“Do you want me to stop? It will feel better eventually, but I’ll stop if you want.”

 

Albus frantically shook his head. “No, please. Keep going.”

 

“Only if you’re sure.” Albus nodded beneath him, whimpering a little. “Okay, sweetheart. Shh, just relax.”

 

It took another few minutes of whispered words of reassurance and gentle coaxing at Albus’ entrance before he was deemed ready.

 

“Albie,” Harry moaned as he lined up his erection at Albus’ entrance and began to push. The head of his penis slid in easily. “God, Albie—you’re the most incredible—you feel so good. Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah. I love you. Wanted you for so long.” Harry looked down at his son, sweaty and sex-flushed and thought that he had never seen a more heart-wrenching sight.

 

“I love you too, baby.” He was all the way in now, and the feeling of being so connected to Albus was overwhelming. His perfect son, who had always loved him so fiercely even when Harry didn’t know it was this kind of love. He’d never felt this level of tenderness toward anyone else. He suddenly wanted to cry, but surely that reaction was an inappropriate one to the most beautiful moment of his life. He lay still on his son for a moment, looming over Albus, arms shaking slightly, heart pumping, protecting his son from the world outside. It was only them in this room. In this world.

 

Gently, achingly slowly, Harry began to thrust in and out, feeling the slickness of the lube and the heat of his son engulfing and sucking him in each time. He belonged here. God, he never wanted it to end. For long minutes he thought of nothing but the heat between their bodies building. The slow, steady rhythm of them making love for the first time. The stickiness when their skin came together and then peeled apart. The sweet scent of Albus as he rose into new heights of ecstasy underneath Harry.

 

Albus started moaning under him with each gentle thrust. “Da—da, I’m so—”

 

“What is it, baby?” Harry reached a hand in front of them to tend to Albus’ weeping erection.

 

Albus let out a long, quiet moan and came hard, coating Harry’s fist with ejaculate. Harry followed, deep thrusts turning into shallow spasms within his son.

 

“God, Albie. Merlin.” He was shaking lightly, still coming. He clutched Albus to him tightly, binding them together forever. There was no coming back from this. They had committed the worst sort of sin. Harry no longer cared.

 

When it was finally over, he collapsed on top of Albus, wiping his hand messily on the side of the bed.

 

\---

 

Albus curled into where his da held him closely and focused on breathing. He was in awe of what had just happened. In all of his fantasies of his da, he had never even come close to imagining what had just happened. He didn’t even know feeling like that was possible. So stunningly happy and sad and scared all at once, only to have love be the emotion that overpowered all the others to create the most life-changing experience of Al’s young life. He was terrified of what would come. Never had he been so happy to be scared.

 

\---

 

When Albus woke up alone the next morning, he lay paralyzed in bed for twenty minutes before he found it in himself to move. He wondered if it was all a dream. But how could he have dreamed _that_? It was too intense. Too real.

 

After the first time, they fell asleep only to wake up two hours later to do it again, this time Albus on top, nervous and exposed, slowly riding Harry, guided by his da’s hands and encouraging murmurs. And while he was self-conscious from the vulnerable position, he had never felt more loved in his life. Now, in the stark light of day, his confidence in that respect had gone and hidden somewhere.

 

Somehow, he managed to make his way out of his room and down the stairs after slipping a robe on. Walking now, he could feel the after effects—the evidence—of what had transpired. He could feel it in him.

 

Albus was nervous. _Why_ had he woken up alone? Did his da regret it? God, Albus would die if he had this taken away from him now.

 

He smelled the bacon before he entered the kitchen. Harry was standing at the stove in pajama pants and no shirt, cooking. How Albus wished his da would just turn around and smile at him and tell him everything was okay—better than okay—

 

Albus sneezed.

 

Albus had never seen his da turn so fast before in his life. He had startled him.

 

“Albus.” His name was air. Just a breath. Albus didn’t know what it meant. He took a half step forward and then second-guessed himself. What if his da didn’t want him anymore? What if he regretted it?

 

Albus forced himself to meet Harry’s gaze, and what he saw there made his breath hitch. He had certainly never been looked at like _that_ before—like he was the very air the man breathed.

 

In an instant, the stove was abandoned, and Al was wrapped up in his father, hands roaming up and down his back sensuously, through his hair, around his neck, then finally settled on his waist. Lips had descended upon his neck, and Albus gasped.

 

“Oh—da—” He was pushed up onto the kitchen table, and his robe was spread open so he was exposing himself. He was already hard, and Harry’s hand immediately made a fist around his erection. “Oh my god.”

 

It took less than two minutes for Albus to come, quivering against his da, head thrown back as lips and teeth sucked bruises into his neck.

 

It took a moment to come back to himself after the attack, and Albus was just about to try to reciprocate when the smell of burning food invaded his nose. “The bacon—”

 

“Bugger—” Harry turned and turned off the heat, removing the ruined food from the burner. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, turning to wash his hands in the sink. “Perhaps cereal instead? I wanted to do something—er—nice for you—but—”

 

Albus felt himself blush with pleasure. His da was flustered. “Cereal is fine. You didn’t have to make me anything.”

 

Albus was hit with that stare again, and his heart seemed to be doing cartwheels and asphyxiating at the same time. When Harry spoke, his voice was low and sweet. “I wanted to. You deserve the best, Albie.” Albus smiled shyly and let himself be dragged by the hand into a hug. His da sighed into his neck once they had settled against one another. “I don’t know where to go from here.”

 

Albus became stony at that, tensing in his da’s arms. His da felt it and squeezed him in what he supposed was supposed to be a reassuring gesture. “You’re gonna have to tell me if I’m doing it wrong—if you want to stop or if it’s too much—God, baby, I don’t want to hurt you. This is crazy.” Albus relaxed when his da hadn’t talked about sending him away or cutting him off. Albus didn’t think he would survive that.

 

Al responded by burrowing himself in further, nuzzling his da’s neck and breathing him in. “I’m so happy, da,” he admitted quietly. “I’m scared by how happy I am. Promise me you won’t leave me. Even if—even if you change your mind—I couldn’t live without you.”

 

\---

 

The next few weeks flew by too fast. They were like a hazy dream, full of soft caresses and meaningful looks. He had never felt so loved. His da and he, cut off from the world in their London townhouse, lived in their own fantasy world. There was constant contact between them, an almost magnetic pull after their first night bringing them together. Al felt as though he was in the clouds, surrounded by heated touches and insurmountable pleasure, dreading the moment when he had to come down. Only when Lily and James came to visit for a weekend did Albus feel reality bite him in the arse. James slept in his room, Lily on the couch.

 

The couch that had been christened more than once over the previous week. The first time, his da and him were cuddling on the couch, blearily watching a movie. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands to themselves, as was often the case these days. Harry’s hand, where it had been resting on Al’s stomach while they were lying down, spooning, began to rub tiny circles, Albus’ shirt riding up so Harry could get more contact. Instantly, Albus was hard. He turned his head so they could kiss, moaning into it when his da’s hand slipped down under his pants, rubbing him gently in his palm.

 

Al was flipped onto his back a moment later, with Harry’s now-naked erection grinding into his.

 

Al couldn’t help but make little “hah” noises. This always felt so good.

 

“Da—Harry—”

 

His da moaned. “Fuck, baby, that’s so hot. Say it again.”        

 

Al’s vision was beginning to white out with pleasure, his erection sliding wetly next to his da’s. “Harry—Harry—oh, I’m so close. So, so, so, so—”

 

He screamed his father’s name as he orgasmed. Vaguely, he registered his da convulsing above him, too, licking random patterns into his neck.

 

They cleaned the couch with a charm after that.

 

\---

 

Now, Lily leaned back unassumingly on the cushions, her long red hair falling back to where Albus’ head lay as he screamed Harry’s name when he came against his pelvis.

 

It was horrible how turned on Harry was by the memory.

 

Harry hadn’t had so much sex in his life. Albus was insatiable, and Harry wasn’t much better. He was amazed he could go so many times at his age. It was like they couldn’t get one another out of their systems. Each touch just made the addiction stronger. How he had denied Albus for the past year was beyond him. He was incurable. And when they weren’t fucking, they were touching, bodies moving around one another like one person.

 

It was absolutely insane. Harry had never felt more alive.

 

And now with his other children here, visiting, Albus and Harry had been as far apart as they had since that first night. Harry felt like he was missing a limb, and Al was standing three feet away from him, broad shouldered and boyish, lips plump and smiling, beautiful brown eyes shining, black hair mussed from this morning—

 

God, Harry had to stop these trains of thought or he would get hard, which, seeing as Lily and James were here, would be _bad_. Two days without this—this insanity that he had with Albus.

 

\---

 

That night, his da and Albus made dinner. James lingered in the kitchen, doing _The Daily Prophet’s_ morning crossword puzzle at the table. His sister was in the living room, watching telly.

 

James had been having a fairly good summer up until that point, hanging out with his cool, older god-brother Teddy and sending continuous owls back and forth with Ellen from Ravenclaw. They had gotten together in April, and James thought she was _amazing_. She played seeker like him and was funnier than any other girl he knew. He couldn’t wait to go back to Hogwarts so he could see her—their last year.

 

He was pulled out of his day dreaming by an unfamiliar, loud giggle. He looked up from the crossword to see his younger brother pushing at their da, flour in a long streak down his cheek.

 

“Hey, I’m trying to bread some chicken here,” said Albus, glaring at their da. James could tell it wasn’t serious, though. There were tell-tale signs of a grin trying to break free onto his face.

 

Harry grinned back, not bothering to hide it. “You just got a little something here—” His da reached out again, smearing his floury hand onto Al’s nose.

 

“Stop it!” Al was laughing loudly. _Laughing_.

 

He hadn’t seen the look on Al’s face in what had to be years or heard him laugh like that in just as long. He looked unreservedly happy. James stared.

 

Their da rinsed his hands off before reaching for a paper towel and wetting it slightly. “Alright, alright,” he said. “But, really, let me—”

 

Al stood still, still smiling slightly, as Harry wiped off his face with a damp towel. The process seemed to drag itself out, Harry cupping Albus’ cheek carefully as he slowly dragged the towel down his flour-covered nose and then cheek.

 

“Thank you,” Albus said, voice so low James barely caught it.

 

Their da didn’t say anything, just smiled fondly at Albus, rubbed a thumb tenderly across his cheek before letting him go to turn back to prepare the vegetables.

 

Albus gazed at Harry’s back once he had turned away, eyes soft and moony. As Albus moved to go back to breading the chicken, he noticed James’ stare. Immediately, and as though the tender moment between Al and his da hadn’t happened, Albus’ face became expressionless and he quickly busied himself.

 

James stared at his brother’s back, and, slowly, felt as if he was putting together a puzzle for which he had been gathering the pieces for a long time.

 

 ---

 

“I know about you and da,” James said.

 

James was lying down on the conjured twin bed, playing absentmindedly with a snitch he had nicked from school at the end of the year.

 

“What?” James was good at reading people—he could tell how they felt and if they were hiding anything. Albus, from where he stood next to the dresser getting changed didn’t sound as cool and calm as James was sure he wanted to sound.

 

“I’m not sure how I didn’t see it before, really,” James said, grabbing the snitch before it flew too far away. He was careful to make his tone light, despite the hard words coming out of his mouth. “You’ve always been a weirdo when it came to da.”

 

“I can’t say I understand what the hell you’re on about,” said Albus, voice stiff and cold. James glanced over for the first time since starting the conversation to Albus’ hunched back rooting through his drawers.

 

“It’s obvious, innit? Pretty disgusting, in my estimation, but I can’t say I never saw it coming. Sure to break ol’ da’s heart when he finds out what a freaky bugger like you thinks of him, fawning over him like some needy little boyfriend.” James hadn’t meant for all that to come out. It sounded much harsher aloud than it did in his head.

 

“You’re sick, James.” Albus finally turned around from the drawers, moving over to his bed to start folding his sheets down. James caught a glimpse of his face, and the sheer panic and fear covering it was enough to halt his next words. Even at the distance in the dim light, James could tell Albus’ hands were shaking.

 

James had been unsure, actually, when he started this conversation. He thought that he was maybe just going crazy and seeing things. In fact, starting this conversation had been a bad idea, and James was definitely regretting putting his thoughts into words. _This_ — _this_ was the confirmation he never needed. “Oh, Merlin—you _actually_ —”

 

“Stuff it.” Albus climbed into bed and turned out the light. The snitch escaped, and James didn’t get up to look for it.

 

“Albus, he’s our _father_. Are you crazy?”

 

“I said _stuff it_. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“I think I do. Albus, this isn’t normal—”

 

“I know!” Albus shouted. James stopped talking immediately. Albus so rarely got angry, even when James teased him. Only when it came to da did Albus get so worked up. Signs, James thought, that he didn’t need. But he was in too deep now to turn back on this. His curiosity was piqued. “I know it’s _not normal_.”

 

James was quiet for a long time, thinking. Long enough to fall asleep, but James knew Albus was still awake. “Does da know?” James asked quietly, almost a whisper.

 

James heard Albus’ exhale clearly in the dark of the room. “Yes.” Just whispers now.

 

“What did he say?”

 

Albus didn’t respond, and James thought that that was answer enough.

 

 ---

 

“James asked me about us,” Albus said, once the fireplace flared green then faded back to normal. His siblings returned home that morning after two of the most nerve-wracking days of Albus’ life. After James confronted him that first night, he had stopped that line of questioning. It was almost as though it had never happened except that Albus kept on receiving curious stares from his brother, ones that would glance between him and da. Every time Albus caught him doing it, James would look down or away, brows furrowed in thought.

 

Albus had been on edge to say the least.

 

Harry’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” There was that hint of panic that Albus expected.

 

“Just what I said. He asked me about us.”

 

“What did you say?”

 

“I didn’t say anything.” Albus turned and threw himself down onto the sofa. Harry came to sit down next to him. Their hands flitted before fitting together, and Albus felt some of the stress leave him in a rush.

 

“Does he know?” The words were quiet and solemn.

 

Albus sighed and nodded. “I think so. I don’t think he is going to say anything, though.”

 

Albus clutched onto his da’s hand and wished that he felt as confident as he sounded.

 

\---

 

For the first time ever, Harry seriously contemplated pulling Albus out of school. Harry knew he would miss him terribly—he always did to some extent—but now with what was going on with them, he felt the selfish urge to pull Albus out and never let him go.

 

What worried Harry was that he knew Albus would let him, no questions asked. It was for this reason in particular that Harry didn’t mention it to his son. Albus still needed to be with kids his own age not to mention an education, and what the two of them shared, while intense and life-altering, was still horribly forbidden and completely taboo, not to mention very illegal, even in the wizarding world. Harry knew that if Ginny ever found out, she would kill him.

 

It made Harry question his sanity, knowing that he was consciously having the most amazing sex with his youngest son. Kissing him. Sleeping by his side every night. Endlessly holding him and taking care of him. Falling in love with him.

 

Because that’s what this was. He was essentially having a love affair with his own flesh and blood, no matter how consensual it seemed. Harry was brilliant at training his mind to push away all the fear and doubt surrounding their relationship, and that was scary. Harry knew he was being reckless and morally wrong and yet couldn’t draw himself away from Albus. He would do almost anything for Albus except keep away from him when the boy asked him to stay.

 

 ---

 

Harry did not pull Albus out of school, and before Al knew it, he was ready to start his fifth year at Hogwarts.

 

The night before the train left, Albus clutched onto his da tightly in Harry’s bed that they now shared and asked to stay. Harry lay on his back and Albus was burrowed up to his side, one arm flung over Harry’s chest.

 

“Please,” Albus said. “I know I’ve asked before. But it’s different now, right?”

 

Harry ran his hand up and down Albus’ shoulder, and Albus felt warm. At his da’s next words, that warmth fled. “You have to go, Al. Hogwarts is important. You need an education.”

 

“You can teach me, though. You’re Harry Potter, world savior.”

 

His da let out a laugh. “I don’t think that qualifies me to teach you magic.”

 

“Da,” Albus said, then stopped. He didn’t know what he could say—if he could say anything, really—to keep him from leaving. For years, the longing to continue living at home and get home schooled had been strong. If he couldn’t convince his father now—after the shift in their relationship—it was clear he never had a chance.

 

“It’s not gonna happen, Al. That’s final. I’m sorry.” Albus, lead lacing his heart, closed his eyes, buried his nose into his father’s neck, soaking in his scent, and tried desperately not to think of how much he was going to miss him in the morning.

 

 ---

 

All James knew was that this was _awful_. He was sitting in a waiting room at St. Mungos with his mum, siblings, and various extended family members. He had been called from class earlier that day to meet the Headmistress. Unassumingly—of _course_ unassumingly, what could possibly be wrong?—he entered to the sight of McGonagall, standing tall with her face pinched with sympathy, little Lily sitting in a chair, eyes red-rimmed and scared, and Albus who looked as though a Dementor had eaten his soul.

 

And now he was here, at St. Mungos, his father in a magically-induced coma. Some neo-Death Eater had come after him while he was at work earlier and spelled him unconscious, and, no, they hadn’t figured out the spell yet, nor a countercurse, but, yes, he was stable and breathing, for _now_ , and there was a stasis spell making sure his nutrient levels stayed up and that his heart kept beating, and in one hour they could see him, but only a few at a time, and, _God_ , Albus, who was sitting next to James still as the dead, hadn’t spoken one word since James entered that office—

 

At that moment, a healer came out, and next to him Albus stood up immediately, tense.

 

“Mr. Potter is indeed in recovery, sleeping, but there has been extensive damage on some vital organs, and as such will need extra rest and healing.”

 

“Can we see him?” his mum asked. His parents may have been divorced and distant, but they never stopped caring for each other—at least when it came to the serious things.

 

“Immediate family first,” the healer said. “And you must be quiet and make sure not to disturb—”

 

Albus was already flying down the hall, past the healer, who abruptly stopped speaking to sigh and nod in assent, as though this happened often. She led Lily and James down the hallway—their mum stayed behind, no longer immediate.

 

When Lily and James entered the room, Albus was already leaning over the bed, hand wrapped around their da’s, eyes staring unblinkingly down at his face.

 

Their da, for his part, lay there, chest rising and falling slowly and evenly but pale—very pale.

 

James walked up to stand next to Albus while Lily walked around the bed to sit in the chair.

 

Five minutes must have passed before James gathered enough courage to clasp his hand onto Albus’ shoulder in comfort because—God knew why, and James did, too—his baby brother needed it. “He’ll be okay, Al.”

 

Apparently that was all it took for Albus to turn, let go of their da’s hand, and press his face into James’ chest. There was no sound, but James, recovering from the shock of the physical contact of his brother—who never hugged or so much as touched James—felt his shirt dampen. His arms came up to hold Albus, who was shaking, and James knew, however terrible and wrong this thing between Albus and their da was, he didn’t have the heart to ruin it. Not when Albus looked like his soul died when it was actually lying in a hospital bed one foot away.

 

\---

 

“I’m not going back.” Two days later, Ginny and her children were sitting in her kitchen. Currently, they were talking about how they needed to head back to school to finish the semester. Well, Ginny was talking _to_ them, and Lily and James were nodding in assent, and Albus—“You can’t make me.”

 

“Albus, you don’t have a choice. You’re fifteen, and you can’t drop out of Hogwarts. There’s no reason to stay here. Your father is only _just_ re—”

 

“Exactly. I can’t possibly go back when he needs me. Da needs me.”

 

Ginny prayed to Gods she didn’t know existed to give her the patience to deal with her youngest son. She had never been good at it, but now with Harry so dazed and feverish, she had to step up and _do what was right_.

 

“Albus, da loves you. You know he does. But he’s in the care of healers, and he has your aunts and uncles to look after him for now. You will be back in two weeks to see him, and he should be much better by then. But what _you_ need to do is focus on getting good grades and passing your exams, alright? We will all be here when you get back, and he is going to be just fine without you for a little while.”

 

Albus’ eyes began to shine, and the tension in the room increased. Lily was looking down at her lap, twiddling her thumbs around and around, and James looked more serious than she had ever seen.

 

“I’m _not_ going back.”

 

“Albus, I’m your moth—”

 

“Jesus, mum, just let him stay with da!” Everything was very silent. James was red faced and was looking everywhere but at the three other people in the room. “The stupid ponce will be useless at school at this point, and you know it. If he wants to be with da, then just let him do that. Merlin.”

 

Ginny glanced quickly at Albus to see his mouth hanging open, staring at his brother, but it closed when he noticed Ginny looking. So James was siding with Albus on this.

 

She blamed the rarity of this occurrence later when she gave in.

 

\---

 

Harry lay back in bed, chest aching dully. The potions were wearing off, and soon his whole body would feel the same way. Absently, he pressed the button next to his bed, and a healer nurse entered a few minutes later with some pain potions that kept the agony away but regrettably made him rather loopy.

 

He leaned back, sighing in relief. He had been here a week already, and the pain was very slowly dimming by the day. In a month or two, it should mostly be eradicated. Nasty spell that bugger had thrown at him. Unfortunately, Harry didn’t remember who had done it, the incident blacked out from memory. For now, he had to stay in the hospital for another week before he would most likely be discharged home.

 

He hated hospitals.

 

He glanced at the time, noticing that it was nearing noon, the time Albus had been coming round and staying until late. Harry was glad to see his son, especially in those first few muddled days where nothing made sense except Albus’ familiar face and smell, but he can’t say he was happy that Albus had found a way to stay out of school for the rest of the semester.

 

At that moment, the boy in question entered, bearing a tupperware container of food. They exchanged a smile, and Albus closed the door behind him, placing the container down on a table. Albus walked over and leaned down for a hug, as was often the case these days when they were alone. Harry turned his head to kiss Albus’ cheek gently, but the boy turned his head at last minute to meet his lips. The kiss was chaste and tender, and Albus was blushing slightly when he pulled back.

 

Harry smiled slightly, the blush endearing him further to Albus.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Better now that you’re here.”

 

Albus smiled at that, the worry still in his eyes. All week, Harry had been subjected to that thinly concealed scrutiny, but he let his son at it, knowing that if the positions were reversed he would be similarly concerned. “Me, too.”

 

The visit continued with Albus offering Harry lunch that he had made, and Harry ate it despite having little appetite just to see him smile. After, Albus squished himself up on the side of the bed next to Harry and carefully held his hand. Albus had brought books to read, and they read in companionable silence, occasionally broken by a soft kiss from Albus into the crown his head, mouth lingering there and breathing him in.

 

Eventually, Harry fell asleep, content for the time being.


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Albus finale.

The journey towards recovery required a few more weeks of hospital stay. By the time Harry was able to go back home, Christmas had come and passed, and Albus was forced to go back to Hogwarts after the New Year. Albus was not happy about this fact, but he went along with it begrudgingly.

Sitting in class now, OWLs looming mere days away, Albus stared out the window closest to him, not really noticing the layer of filth coating its exterior, vision going hazy. This had been happening on a more frequent basis ever since the summer came closer and closer. Sometimes Albus missed home so much it physically hurt. Not that Hogwarts was bad, but he didn’t consider it home like his father had before him. For Albus, Hogwarts was just a means to an end: an education for his freedom. Once he turned seventeen and graduated, nothing could stop him from doing what he wanted—being who he wanted—being with anyone he wanted with nothing to hold him back.

Never had Albus envied James’ two years on him more.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Albus scooped up his books and beelined for his dorm, ignoring his classmates’ efforts to engage him. He was the only one of his roommates to have a free period this block, and he had been taking advantage of that fact for months.

Immediately after throwing his books down beside his bed, Albus crawled into it, closed the curtains and cast a few minor, but necessary, privacy charms. From under his pillow, he pulled out his mirror, touching the silvery surface.

The face of the mirror waved like liquid for a few moments before revealing a face.

“Albus,” his da said happily, smiling. Albus felt his grin, involuntary and from somewhere deep within him, creep up his face.

Talking to his da never failed to improve his disposition, any heavy bricks on his mood transforming to leviosa’d feathers in seconds. Today was no exception.

“I miss you,” Albus said, twenty minutes into their conversation.

God, sometimes Albus felt like he was in a whirlpool of affection when his da looked at him like that. 

“Only a month, Al,” Harry said. “But you keep focusing on your OWLs for me, yeah?”

“You know I am. When have I ever failed a test?”

“Just saying—I worry about you, lovey.”

Albus blushed, looking away from the mirror for a moment. He liked when Harry called him endearments quite more than a bit. They made him feel wanted, but they still occasionally flustered him.

Gathering up his courage, Albus looked back up at where Harry’s face was framed, feeling heated. “I miss you.”

\---

Harry’s breath caught in his chest when he saw the way Albus gazed at him. It made Harry—and Oh, Christ. Just like that Harry wanted him. The subtlety of it all amazed him.

“I miss you, too,” Harry said, pressing with the heel of his palm against his trouser front. “God, Albus, I miss you.”

Albus’ face had a rising flush to it. “Are you—?” Albus cut himself off, eyes darting off a bit. Harry still understood.

“Yeah—I am. Are you?” 

Albus nodded, eyes returning to Harry’s.

Harry pulled his cock out of his pants, leaning back on the couch where he sat, unable to help himself from stroking in long, slow tugs. He stifled a rising moan. Ever since Albus went back to school, his sexual frustration escalated gradually until just talking to the boy for a few minutes had him hard and wanting. This wasn’t the first time they had done this, but it had happened less than Harry would have wanted. It made him feel close to Albus even when his son was far away. This was the closest he could get to Albus without touching him. “Don’t look away from me—that’s it, Al.”

Harry heard Albus shift and saw him lean back. He had to be touching himself at this point, too, and just the idea of it made Harry groan, his arousal spiking and he felt eddies of pleasure slink through to the base of his cock.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry groaned, after a particularly satisfying pull.

Albus was panting lightly at this point. “You,” he said, “and me. Me underneath you—the first time. Oh—ah—I wanted you so bad.”

Wandlessly, Harry managed to slick up his hand, making the new movements ten times better. “I wanted you, too, baby. I still do. So much. Let me see?”

Albus fumbled for a second before he aimed the mirror toward his lap. The sight of his penis, red head oozing liquid and Albus’ hand firmly moving up and down it, pushed Harry dangerously close to the edge.

“Fuck, Albus, that’s the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen—god, you’re perfect. Back up, love. I want to see you when you come.” As much as Harry wanted to admire Albus’ leaking cock, the desire to stare into his beautiful face as he came apart was more tempting.

Albus flipped his mirror so he was looking back in Harry’s eyes.

“Harry,” Al whimpered, and that never failed to make him even harder. Albus only called him that when he was consumed in pleasure, too far gone to really notice what he was saying. “I love you, Harry—oh—so good—” And then Albus went silent as they stared at each other, eye contact so intense it was almost unbearable. The intimacy of it was unbelievable given that they weren’t even in the same room as each other.

Harry managed to choke out one word as his thumb made one last swipe over the head—“Coming”—and then he did, the pleasure acute and thrumming. The first spurt flew up to land on his stomach, and the rest oozed out over his fingers as he tugged the last of his orgasm out.

As he was still coming down, Albus cried out and closed his eyes, mouth open with tiny gasps escaping, dark eyebrows furrowed, and Harry thought that he had never seen anything more breathtaking.

“I wish I could hold you,” Harry said as Albus slowly opened his eyes.

“One month,” Albus said, panting and looking for all the world like he was the most satisfied person on earth.

“One month,” Harry agreed.

\---

“Eight OWLs, Albus?” James made a tsking noise. “Should’ve gone for nine.”

Albus rolled his eyes but it was without venom. Lately, James’ teasing didn’t seem as mean—more light-hearted and playful than anything. It did wonders for Albus’ patience. “Why haven’t you moved out until now?” Albus asked, ignoring James’ teasing for being the “smart sibling”, grunting as he lifted a particularly cumbersome box and hoisted it down the stairs. 

“Why d’you care? It’s not like you ever lived here.”

He glared at his brother, who was using lightening and levitation charms on his boxes with his perfectly legal of-age magic. “A hand here?” James snorted and started sifting through old Quidditch gear instead. “And I don’t, just wondering. I’d have thought you’d head out first chance you got. Took you a few months.”

“Only two!”

Al would have held up his hands if he wasn’t currently heaving slightly as he dropped another box in the gradually-growing pile downstairs.

“Yeah but in James-time that’s like a thousand years.” It was true—James had always marched to the beat of his own drum and had the impatience of a two year old.

“Anyway, that was before Ellen proposed and asked me to move in with her.”

Albus dropped a particularly heavy box onto his foot. “Damn—what? She proposed to you? And you said yes?” James merely rolled his eyes.

“Why does everyone sound so surprised?”

“Because—because—you!” Inside, Albus was actually quite pleased for his brother, who had matured infinite amounts in the past few years, even if he still was a bit of a wanker. “Wow. Congratulations.” 

As James’ mouth tipped up in a suppressed smile, Albus pushed down any sadness he felt, realizing he himself would never get to make any such announcement. “Thanks.”

“When is the wedding? Do you know?”

“Twenty-ninth, December. Wanted to do it when people would be around but didn’t want our anniversary to fall on Christmas or New Year’s.”

“Wow,” Albus said again, because he couldn’t think of what else to say. To think that his brother—his asshole, bully of a brother—was ready to commit to someone else forever at the age of eighteen was incredible. A thought suddenly occurred to Albus. “Does mum know?”

Albus swore he had never seen anyone turn from normal coloured to white to green so fast.

\---

The night before Albus headed off for his sixth year, he curled around Harry’s side like a comma and let him stroke his hair soothingly, lazily, as his head rested on his chest. The summer had been like a dream. He had come home to the immediate acceptance of Harry. It had been even better than the year before because there was no hesitancy this time. They knew where they stood with each other—they knew what they wanted from the other. The sex had been mind-numbing and intense, as it always was. Only Harry had made a new rule that it could only happen in the bedroom (which had been broken more than a dozen times) in order to not risk getting caught. Anyone could enter through the Floo, after all. The reminder stung, but Albus understood its importance. If anyone found out about them, Albus would be taken away, and his da would get arrested.

Once again, Albus thanked whoever was out there that James was actually a lot cooler than he originally let on. While James never asked anything about them, and Albus never told him anything, they both knew what was happening behind closed doors. It was good to know that someone had his back if this all blew up in his face. Albus hoped sincerely that it didn’t. Two years, he reminded himself. Two years, and he was free for this all the time.

“Da?”

Harry let out a lazy “hmmm” in response. His eyes were closed. Albus thought about James and Ellen and how they would get to show their love to everyone in a few short months. Knowing that Albus could absolutely never have that had made him melancholy over the past week. His brother and his fiancée. It was stupid, too, because Albus knew exactly what he was getting into with this—he didn’t want anything other than this.

It was an involuntary reaction to the good news of another, and he was envious. But he realized how he felt wouldn’t be abated by any words Harry would say to him, and he retreated.

“Nothing.”

Harry squeezed his arms tight around Albus and pressed a sleepy kiss to his forehead. “Love you, Al.”

Albus smiled sadly up at him. “Love you, too.”

\---

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—”

“Shh!” Harry clamped a hand down on Albus’ mouth as he thrust into him roughly, banging him up against the closet wall. God, but Albus had looked amazing in his suit—James’ wedding had been Muggle-formal because Ellen was a Muggle-born—standing up there next to James and handing him the ring. His hair was just a little too long and he had to keep pushing it back during the ceremony and his suit was fitted. Harry had tried to keep his eyes on James and Ellen during the ceremony, but somehow Albus always managed to steal all his attention without any effort on his part. 

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for hours,” Albus whispered once Harry removed his hand, quieter this time but no less heated. “Ever since dinner when you did that tongue thing with your spoon—you can’t do that—”

Albus gasped, cut off, when Harry aimed just right and hit his prostate. Albus had two hands against the wall, pants around his ankles while Harry thrust into him from behind, body curving over Albus’ so as much of his front could touch his back as possible. It was about midway through the reception, long enough to get everyone at least a little drunk from the open bar, and Harry and Albus were no exception. In fact, Harry considered, Albus was more than a bit drunk. He wasn’t normally so open to talking when they had sex without prompting.

“Love your cock—there—oh, there—I’m going—to come—” Albus gasped and, there, he was, untouched, clenching tightly and rhythmically around Harry’s penis. Harry groaned quietly, biting into Albus’ neck to muffle the sound as he followed, twitching inside as deep as he could go, bottomed out and balls nestling closely to Albus’.

When they had ridden through the convulsions, they were left panting quietly. “That was good,” Albus sighed, and Harry laughed, wetly sliding his shrinking penis out.

Albus turned around, and Harry bent down to kiss him tenderly, lips pliant and soft under his. He released Albus’ lips with a slow lick, reaching behind him for his wand. He cast cleaning charms on both of them, and they pulled up their pants.

Harry was just leaning down for one parting kiss when the door handle started turning.

“I think there might be some more in here, let me see.” Harry sprung back from Albus as if he had been burned, his heart banging in his chest. He could explain this. They weren’t doing anything. This was a supply cupboard so they had come in here to pick up some supplies. The door had just shut. Yeah. Right.

The door opened revealing James. Harry didn’t know whether to feel sick or relieved. He felt a bit of both—from what Albus had told him, James and Albus had a sort of truce, and he even knew about them. The thought had kept him up at night, not knowing how he felt about his other son knowing about their very illicit affair. 

“We…needed more plates,” Harry said lamely. “But I got them, so I’m gonna head out. Congratulations, Jamie, again. I’m proud of you.” With that, he reached behind him for some paper plates, almost dropping them in the process. He patted James’ shoulder on the way out a bit gruffly, then walked away as fast as he could, not glancing back to see if Al was following.

\---

“Is that a hickey?” James exclaimed, gaping at his neck.

“Oh, piss off, James,” Albus said, heart still beating a bit too fast. God, could Harry have been more obvious? Albus felt much more sober than he did ten minutes ago.

“You’re a dumbass to do that shit here, Albus. Our whole family is here, you know. What if it wasn’t me who had come here searching for more napkins? Also, ever heard of a locking charm?”

Albus’ stomach churned uncomfortably. “I know, James. Drop it. It was dumb, but it’s over.”

Albus pushed past him, determined to follow the path he’d seen Harry taken back to the reception, the warm glow of feeling from the sex all but shattered.

“He’s not forcing you, is he?” James asked, voice low and cautious. Albus paused, turning to him incredulously.

“Of course not. How could you even—”

“I don’t know, Albus! Your entire relationship with him is fucked up. It always has been. Ever since we were kids all you’ve done is follow him around like a lost puppy begging for attention. It wasn’t healthy then, and it isn’t healthy now.”

“I love him,” Albus said fiercely.

“I know, Albus, and that makes it that much more fucked up. He’s supposed to be your father, not your boyfriend. He’s supposed to take care of you, not fuck you.”

Albus felt his defenses rising. “Why can’t he be both? I need him, and he needs me. We love each other.”

“So you’re saying he, not one time, ever took advantage of you. Ever made it seem like you had to do it—for, I don’t know—for love. He never manipulated you into a physical relationship? Are you sure?”

“YES. Yes, I am sure, James. I started it. I was the one throwing myself after him. He almost sent me to live with you and Lily and mum, did you know that? He said that I couldn’t feel the way I did for him, that it was wrong, and if I couldn’t handle living near him with normal feelings I should leave. And don’t you know how much I hated myself for all that? For feeling the way I did when I couldn’t help it? If it weren’t for the—the genetics—”

“And let’s not forget the authoritative role he has in your life and the trust a child gives a parent.”

“—yes, and that,” Albus continued, glaring at James. “Without all that crap I would still feel the same way I do now. I know I would. You can’t love someone like I love him and have it not be real. And it’ll never be perfect like with you and Ellen and no one can find out for so many reasons—it’s horrible. It’s horrible to have to keep love a secret. I had to beg my way into this relationship, James, so don’t for one second think anything bad of da. He pushed against it even though he loved me, too. I know that if I wanted it to be over, then he would accept that because he loves me more than anything. I love him more than anything. And that’s the way it is. If you can’t accept that—fine—just—just please don’t tell anyone.”

Albus had almost worked himself into tears. Thank god he managed to hold it in. So focused on that that he nearly gasped when James wrapped his arms around him. 

James’ voice was much softer this time when he spoke. “Alright, Albus. I believe you. But you have to know that if he ever does anything to hurt you I will fucking castrate him. I don’t care if he’s my father. Come to me if you ever need to get out.”

Albus let out a watery laugh. “I didn’t know you cared,” he half-joked. “But I won’t need to. Get out, that is.”

James let go, pushing Albus toward the direction of the party lightly, obviously concealing some emotion. “Go get drunk, wanker; it’s my wedding day.”

With one last hesitant look in James’ direction, Albus fled.

\---

Dinner at his grandparents’ house had become unbearably uncomfortable. 

“Yes, Yolanda, I think her name is. Her parents are Greek. Rose is such good friends with her. I’m sure we could think of some way for you guys to meet,” the head matriarch of all the Weasleys told him.

“Oh, no, thanks. Not really looking for anything right now. But thanks,” Albus said firmly.

“Oh, come on now,” his gran continued. “You graduate in six months! It’s harder when you’re out of school.”

“’M not worried,” Albus mumbled around a bite of mashed potatoes. He steadfastly did not make eye contact with anyone, especially Harry who was seated a ways down the table from him. Christmas dinners were hit or miss with his family, and tonight was decidedly a miss.

“Oh, leave poor Albus alone,” his uncle Ron said. “Maybe Hogwarts girls just aren’t made like they were in my day.” He made moony eyes at his wife, who rolled her eyes but blushed faintly.

“Or maybe he isn’t interested in the girls,” Lily said, almost snidely, but so quietly that it was barely heard.

Albus quickly shoved a piece of turkey in his mouth.

“Oh,” his gran said, like the idea hadn’t ever crossed her mind. “Oh. Well, in that case, I know of a young man, too—Scorpius Malfoy, I think it was? Andromeda dropped by the other day, told me all about her nephew’s recent breakup with that troublemaker Phil—”

“God, stop,” Albus moaned. “I’m sorry, gran, but I’m really okay. Please. I know you mean well. But please.”

“Alright, then,” his gran said, cutting her turkey deliberately. “I just thought I might do something nice for my grandson—look how happy James and Ellen are—oh precious. You could learn a thing or two from your brother when it comes to love.”

Albus rolled his eyes but inside he winced. 

\---

Harry slammed Albus against the bedroom door, forcing their pelvises together and running frantic hands down his sides and under his shirt. He bit Albus’ neck roughly, and Albus flexed toward him, back arching, neck bared for the taking.

“Ah—ah—oh my god,” Albus panted. Harry’s already interested arousal filled further with his words. “Oh my god.”

Harry, who had managed to relieve Albus of his shirt, started on Albus’ pants, the button hurriedly undone, hand shoved down the front, fisting around his penis quickly. “You’re mine,” Harry declared. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine.”

Albus shook beneath him, hands scrabbling clumsily around Harry’s back, trying to gain purchase. “Of course—of course—yours, da, Harry—love you so—god—so much—fuck—”

The wetness suddenly coating Harry’s hand forced a loud groan out into Albus’ collarbone which he had worked down. Albus had never come so fast. A dozen strokes, and it was over.

Harry barely had time to pull the last of Albus’ orgasm out of him before Albus had fallen to his knees, mouthing at Harry’s crotch. 

“Al,” Harry breathed. He felt consumed with possession and lust. The idea of Albus leaving him for someone else made him almost insane with jealousy—although he knew he had nothing to worry about, the conversation at dinner had him seething with emotion. He also knew that he loved Albus too much to trap him—he had too much power over him. But sometimes he felt consumed with the knowledge of that power and couldn’t help imagining Albus staying. Right now he let his weakness consume him.

And then Harry knew nothing but sweet, soft wetness and warmth—but hell he loved Albus’ mouth. He stared down at him and knew, without a doubt, that no one would ever satisfy him again quite the way that Albus did. His son did things to his heart and his body that could never be replicated. From the moment Harry held Albus in his arms, he knew he had never loved anything more. As they both grew older, Harry was ashamed of the depth he felt for his youngest son. Knowing it was reciprocated, however, had been the greatest burden and gift ever thrust upon him. 

They were in now—so, so deep. Harry was on the verge of coming down his son’s mouth, and he couldn’t wait. He was so eager, just on the edge—Albus was circling his tongue filthily around the crown of his penis, and he felt himself leaking. Albus began a low vibration with his mouth, forcing the sound into a physical manifestation all through his member, and Harry felt on the edge—right there—and with no warning—it wasn’t necessary anymore, Albus knew—Harry began convulsing, thick streams of come forcing their way out of the tip of his cock into the confines of Albus’ mouth. Harry stared down into his son’s eyes and knew that he could never have another—would never let another, see Albus like this. 

Albus was perfection. God, he loved him so much he felt suffocated with affection. As he watched Albus choke down his come, he felt his throat close and his eyes sting.

He pulled Albus up, making him trip slightly but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Albus’ mouth on his, his semen making it known that Albus had done this for him, had pulled that pleasure from him and had wanted to, and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He knew he should feel nauseous with guilt, but that had never been a feeling with Albus. Albus was home. He had never known happiness like he did with Albus. He had never known the simple contentedness of knowing that he would always have that shining light in his life—his soulmate. It killed him knowing that he would never be able to share it, but he understood. Reality was harsh, but if he wanted to keep Albus, he had to hide their true relationship.

“You’re everything to me,” Albus murmured against Harry’s cheek as he slid them into bed under the covers, clothes slipping off both of them.

Harry pressed a meaningful kiss to Albus’ scalp, knowing that all he could do was love him, and love him he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end :) Sorry not sorry. Might have written this drunk. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
